


talk with your fingertips

by pirateygoodness



Series: here comes the rush (before we touch) [2]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Aftercare, Bondage, Dom/sub Play, Established Relationship, F/F, Fingerfucking, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Service Kink, Sub Kara Danvers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 14:12:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8536291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pirateygoodness/pseuds/pirateygoodness
Summary: This is how it always works, the days they meet. There's a message, a time, a set of instructions. That's how Kara knows what to expect. Sometimes, like today, it's short: a few rules, some suggestions on what to wear. Other days, it's longer instructions, or a photo Lena's pulled from Kara-never-wants-to-know-where on the internet, showing Kara what Lena wants to do to her. No matter what Lena sends, Kara melts for it, every time.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title is a line from Hayley Kiyoko's "One Bad Night."

It's three-thirty in the afternoon, and Kara's already checked her phone twenty five times since lunch. She's working - supposed to be working - in her corner of the office, standing while Snapper criticizes her latest article submission, line by line. She doesn't have time to be checking anything. 

At three thirty-eight, Kara's phone vibrates in her pocket and she jumps. Her heart starts beating faster. It could be a message from anyone, she tells herself. It's probably just a message from Winn, or maybe Alex. But the optimistic part of her brain knows that Lena's finishing work early tonight. Knows that Lena said maybe she'd call and Kara said maybe she'd be free, and they both meant those _maybes_ the same way that maybe Kara's a little excited right now. 

It's twelve whole minutes before she can tear herself away from work to look at her phone, and every one of them is agony. 

When Kara finally gets a minute to herself, hiding in the ladies' room, she checks: it's a text from Lena. She feels a flutter of anticipation just seeing her name. This is how it always works, the days they meet. There's a message, a time, a set of instructions. That's how Kara knows what to expect. Sometimes, like today, it's short: a few rules, some suggestions on what to wear. Other days, it's longer instructions, or a photo Lena's pulled from Kara-never-wants-to-know-where on the internet, showing Kara what Lena wants to do to her. 

No matter what Lena sends, Kara melts for it, every time. 

She's never had a relationship - if that's even the right word; it sounds so _normal_ to Kara's ears - like this before. She's never had someone make things so clear, tell Kara exactly what to do, before. There's something about the way this works - about _submitting_ \- that Kara just finds so _helpful_. It organizes her, keeps her focused, makes her feel _good_ in a way she never thought was possible. Lena tells her what's expected; Kara meets expectations. If she does a good job, she gets a reward. It sounds so simple when she puts it like that, almost stupid, but it's so much more at the same time. 

 

Kara leaves the office at one minute after five, and it takes all of her self-control not to super-speed home to change. She rushes up the steps to her apartment building two at a time, opens her door with hands so shaky that she nearly breaks her key off in the lock. It takes her a full fifteen minutes of fretting and rifling through her closet to find the outfit Lena asked for (because, _of course_ , it's almost laundry day) but eventually she finds something close enough. 

She does her best to get dressed slowly, to take care. It's partly because she wants to look nice for Lena, partly because she doesn't want to get too excited and ruin her outfit. She manages, clothing intact, takes a few extra minutes to double-check her makeup, her hair. She just - she just wants to look good, wants to _be_ good, for when Lena sees her. She checks the clock: five minutes after six. 

She doesn't need to be there until seven-thirty. 

 

Kara arrives at Lena's building at seven twenty-five, wearing the right clothing ( _something cute, maybe in pink, no tights_ ), full of nervous energy. She feels conspicuous as she walks into Lena's building and checks in with the security guard at the front entrance. (The guard who knows her, calls her _Miss Danvers_ and comments that _it's so nice to see Miss Luthor making friends_ without a hint of irony, while Kara tries her best not to blush.) The guard - _David, call me Dave_ \- lets her into the elevator at seven twenty-eight, and she fidgets through the entire ride to Lena's apartment on the fiftieth floor. 

She allows herself another thirty seconds to compose herself outside Lena's apartment door. This building is quieter than her own, less occupied. In some ways, that's good - fewer ears to notice the two of them, for a start. But quieter also means that there's less background noise, more for Kara's senses to notice. Without trying, her hearing picks up the rustle of someone adjusting clothing, taking a deep breath to ready themselves, on the other side of Lena's apartment door. 

Somehow, hearing Lena sound nervous - even a little bit - gives Kara the confidence she needs to knock. 

It's exactly seven-thirty when Lena opens the door to her apartment and lets Kara inside. She greets Kara as she walks through the doorway, and right off the bat, manages to say Kara’s name in a way that she feels right down to her toes. She's different on nights like this, when Kara's coming over with instructions, when she's planning to be in control. Kara's name is the same word, but it rolls off of Lena's tongue in a way that makes her feel commanded, in a way that sets butterflies going in her belly. 

Lena takes Kara's coat without asking. Kara lets her, slipping out of it and standing still as Lena takes her coat to the closet, locks the apartment door. Waiting. 

She waits as Lena closes the closet door, crosses back toward her. She's got a look in her eyes, like she's sizing Kara up, appraising her, and it's - well, it's not helping that nervous energy, not a bit. Kara does her best to keep her hands still in front of her, to not fidget. She's wearing a dress, one of the ones she likes to wear to work. It's fitted at the top, flared at the waist, pink with little blue dots all over. Ordinarily, it makes her feel beautiful, professional. 

Tonight, it makes her feel obedient, helps her get into the headspace that Lena wants for her. 

Lena walks a slow circle around Kara, and Kara can feel her eyes searching, observing every detail. Lena's wearing her highest heels, the expensive black ones Kara loves and the _click_ of them against the floor of her apartment feels like it's timed to Kara's heartbeat. "You look nice," Lena finally says. She reaches out to tug at the hem of Kara's skirt, adjusting it around her thighs. The gentle swish of fabric against her bare legs makes Kara shiver. 

"Thank you," Kara says. All of Lena's attention focused on her like this is making her feel oddly exposed, almost shy. But then: that's the point. 

Lena clucks her tongue in disappointment. "Kara," she says gently. "I thought we talked about the rules already." 

Kara feels a sudden lurch of anxiety, fumbles mentally before she remembers. "Thank you, miss," she says, the words catching on her tongue as she rushes to correct herself. 

Lena rewards her with a smile, red lipstick curling upward. "Much better," she says. 

She wraps her hand around Kara’s waist, presses gently at the small of her back and that’s all the encouragement she needs to half-stumble into Lena’s arms. With her heels on, Lena’s just about the same height as Kara, which makes it easy for her to crash into kissing Lena, a little too eager and a little messy. She can feel Lena smile against her mouth, can feel the possessive flex of Lena’s fingers against her back and it’s just _lovely._ She takes as many kisses as she possibly can, letting herself learn Lena’s mouth all over again, reveling in the weight of her lips, the taste of her. Lena waits until Kara’s started to sink into the kiss, until her hands are creeping up to Lena’s jaw and the start of a sigh is in the back of Kara’s throat, before she breaks away. 

Kara can’t quite catch the soft _oh_ of disappointment that falls from her as Lena pulls back from their kiss. She licks her lips, trying to keep herself from tugging Lena right back over. 

Lena’s lipstick is smeared to ruin, but the rest of her is as tidy as ever, and she doesn’t look the least bit flustered. Her eyes are smiling, but her voice is stern as she clucks again, and schools her expression into something serious. “Kara,” she says. “What did I just say?”

Kara stares for a moment, completely dumbfounded. It takes her a moment to tear her thoughts away from kissing, and another moment more before she remembers herself. “I’m sorry, miss,” she says. She’s suddenly truly contrite, and that’s the beauty of this, too. “I forgot to ask.” 

Lena smiles. “See that it doesn’t happen again.” 

The main space of Lena’s apartment is one big room encompassing kitchen, living space, and dining room. Lena’s clearly been working at the dining table until just recently - her laptop’s still set up, although off, and there’s a stack of articles neatly arranged in front of Lena’s usual spot. Without a word, Lena turns her back to Kara, and walks to the table. 

Lena sits down, straight-backed, legs crossed at the ankles. She’s wearing a skirt and blouse, the kind of thing she’d ordinarily wear to work, her hair pulled back in some complicated-looking twist. There’s a little makeup kit on the table, and Lena busies herself fixing her lipstick, wiping away the smudges that Kara left behind. 

Kara stands and stares, taking her in. It’s a few moments before Lena acknowledges her presence again, looking up at Kara and smiling politely. “I have a bit of reading I need to finish, for work.” 

Lena’s tone of voice is casual, almost dismissive. But Kara knows better. Kara knows this as part of how things are going to go, knows this is an invitation. She crosses the room to stand next to Lena, hovering. It’s a little awkward - she knows she’s supposed to ask permission for things tonight but doesn’t know if this counts, doesn’t want to misstep _again_. Kara’s still slipping into her role for the evening, and it makes her tentative. 

She stands next to Lena in her chair for a full minute before she works up the courage to ask: "May I sit, miss?" 

Lena smiles, presses her legs together. It's subtle, but it's one of her tells and it sends a thrill through Kara's whole body. "You may," she says, sweetly. Then she pats the side of her chair, snaps at to the floor beside it. The way someone would gesture to a dog. 

"Down there, miss?" Kara says. She tries to keep her voice steady, sweet, but every part of her wants to go _down there_ , wants to be good, wants to do _exactly_ as she's told. 

Lena nods. Kara obeys. 

She settles herself with her knees tucked beside her, sitting on the patch of floor just beside Lena's chair. Her head is level with Lena's lap, like this, and Lena reaches down to stroke at Kara's hair, gentle touch urging her head down to rest on Lena's lap. She allows herself to be moved, letting herself feel the soft fabric of Lena's skirt, the warmth of her thigh. The table is glass, and from here she can see through it to the top of the table, Lena's other hand resting palm-down against it. 

Lena picks up the article on the top of the stack, and starts to read. Every so often, she reaches down and strokes Kara’s hair, glances at her to check in. It’s nice - sort of relaxing, and Kara appreciates the gentleness of Lena’s touch, the feel of those sharp nails dragging gently through her hair. But it’s also incredibly difficult. 

Lena’s still wearing that short skirt, sleek and gently flared at her knees. From this close, Kara can feel the soft silk of it against her cheek, can see the subtle light-dark texture of the fabric, and the way her legs stretch out below the hem of it. Kara can see soft skin, smooth calves and shins and beyond that, Lena’s feet in those high-heeled shoes. It all just looks so nice, so good to touch and it’s _so hard_ , being this close to Lena and not having permission to touch her the way she wants. She knows this is - not _punishment,_ but something. _Lesson_ , perhaps, would be a better word. 

After the fifth page of Lena’s article, Kara pushes her luck. She reaches out, runs her fingertips along the curve of Lena’s calf, just to see if it really is as soft as it looks. Above her - under her - she feels Lena suddenly tense at her touch, press her thighs together more tightly. “Kara,” she says, her voice a gentle warning. “Not yet.” 

"Of course, miss," Kara mumbles. 

She brings her hand back to her lap, and waits. 

Lena’s article is nine pages long, but the last one is almost entirely citations. She sets it aside a few moments after page eight. “There,” Lena says, and smiles down at Kara. “Now, what do you think we should do tonight?”

Kara has about a million and one things in mind, most of them starting and ending with Lena's body, but she knows that's not how this conversation is supposed to go. She gulps. "I don't know, miss," she whispers. Her voice is breathy now, desire betraying her but that's fine, that's part of this, too. "What do you think?"

Lena's thighs relax and then tighten again, and Kara's mouth starts to water. “I thought we could begin with you on your knees,” she says. “I want you to lick me until I come.” 

Hearing Lena _say it_ hits Kara like a freight train, in the best way. She can practically feel her pupils dilate, and Kara’s suddenly very, very aware of everything between her legs. It’s the hottest thing she’s ever heard, and she wants to say _that_ , wants to tell Lena how good she’s making her feel. 

“Of course, miss,” Kara manages, eventually, because she’s trying to be good. Wants to be good. 

This is the thing about submitting. On the one hand, Lena’s very much in control. Lena gets to tell Kara where to sit, what to say, what to do. But when it comes to the details, there are a hundred little choices that Kara gets to make, and it’s _wonderful._ Kara gets to decide how she lifts the hem of Lena’s skirt, how quickly she moves from her spot at Lena’s side to kneeling between her legs. She has choices to weigh: does she start with Lena’s underwear on, or off? Where should she lick first? 

Lena always leaves the very best decisions to Kara. 

Kara decides to let Lena slouch forward until her hips are flat, hanging just off the edge of her chair. It gives her enough leverage to reach underneath Lena’s skirt and up to her waist. 

Lena’s lingerie is always so pretty - just like everything else about her - and today is no exception. She’s wearing these black lace panties that barely cover the relevant parts and Kara's hands shake as she slides them off of Lena's hips, down her legs. The gusset is already wet and Lena smells like arousal and she loves that, loves that she can make Lena do that, that she can make her feel good before she’s even touched her. 

Kara leans forward, decides to start with her tongue at the apex of Lena’s vulva and move downward. She runs her tongue across everything in detail, checking every fold, tasting every inch of her. It’s thorough, attentive, following Lena’s instructions to the letter. It’s also, almost certainly, _not_ what Lena needs to come, and Kara doesn’t mean to be rebellious but a part of her is craving direction, specificity. 

Above her, Lena sighs, wriggles against her mouth. Kara feels a thrill of satisfaction; an answering desire to squirm her thighs together. "Kara," Lena says. Her voice is strong, commanding, despite Kara's efforts. "I need you to lick my clit.” 

"Yes, miss," she murmurs against Lena's entrance, tonguing her way further up. 

She flicks her tongue against Lena’s clit until she’s gasping, until Kara's chin is soaking wet. There’s a hand firm in her hair, tugging tight, and an edge to the sounds Lena’s making that tells Kara she’s getting close. "Kara," Lena says again. Her voice is thick with arousal but her commands are clear, and god that sends something right into Kara's core, sets her aching. "Two fingers." 

"Yes, miss," Kara hums, and Lena whimpers at that, too. 

She slips two fingers inside and it's so, so sweet. Lena's hot and slick and velvety around her hand, and she bucks her hips and clenches at Kara's touch. There are choices here, too. Choices to thrust or to curl her fingers forward, into the spot that she knows always makes Lena whimper. Choices to be disobedient, to see if she can get away with a third finger, or a fourth. 

Lena sighs, whispers her name and Kara feels that too, right in her chest. She wants to be good, tonight. Wants to be good for Lena, and that means doing what she's told, keeping her tongue and fingers as obedient as the rest of her. Lena's thighs tense, and Kara knows that means she's almost there, knows that means her job is to work her tongue around Lena's clit just a little faster, to move her fingers inside Lena until there's a high pitched gasp and a moment where Lena seems to freeze and then a deep sigh, fluttering muscles holding Kara's fingers tight. 

Kara licks and licks until every last shudder is out of Lena, until Lena's stroking her hand and whispering, "Good girl," over and over. And then: “You can stop, Kara. Good work.” 

Kara sits back, slides her hand out of Lena and that makes Lena give another little shudder, one that Kara’s body almost matches. She looks up at Lena, waiting for instructions. 

Lena smiles, strokes her hair. Kara's chin is slick with her, and the fingers curled in her lap are still slippery-wet but she doesn't dare move, not until she's told to. "Thank you," Lena murmurs. Her voice is strong again, but there's a note of warmth to it, the way there always is just after Kara's made her come. 

"You're welcome, miss," she says, and Lena smiles. Her lipstick is still pale-pink on her top lip, but her lower lip has been licked clean and Kara wants so badly to kiss all of it off - _to be asked_ to kiss it off. 

Lena reaches down to Kara's mouth, feels the slickness there, smiles. "Would you like to clean yourself up?" she asks. 

"Yes please, miss," Kara says. 

Lena nods. "Go ahead."

Kara goes to the bathroom and rinses her hands, her face. She doesn't want to wash all of her makeup off - wants to look good - but she wipes away Lena's arousal and comes back looking freshly-scrubbed, the way she knows that Lena likes. 

To her surprise, Lena’s not in the main room when she returns. Kara feels a little thrill of excitement at that, too. It usually means she’s in the bedroom, and that’s always Kara’s favorite place on nights like this. 

The bedroom looks empty, but Kara can hear Lena’s movements around the corner, inside her ridiculously-sized walk-in closet. It sounds like she’s barefoot, and a glance at the bed confirms it; Lena’s shoes are sitting next to the bed. Kara wants to notice more, but the next thing her eye jumps to are the cuffs on the bed and that’s suddenly all she can see. They’re Kara’s favourites, the ones that connet to straps under the bed and leave her attached to the edges of the bed frame. She loves them best out of everything she and Lena have tried because they’re a challenge. She has to focus on keeping still, on not pulling at her restraints enough that they’ll break, and somehow that makes everything else that happens while she’s tied down _better._

Lena doesn’t know about Kara’s powers, doesn’t know exactly _why_ Kara likes being cuffed so much, but that doesn't matter. Lena knows that she likes it, and that's enough. 

When Lena comes back into the bedroom, she’s undressed completely. Kara tears her gaze away from the bed to notice Lena’s body, the hollow spots near her hipbones that Kara likes to fit her thumbs into, the gentle sway of her breasts as she walks. Her mouth goes dry, and the only other thing she notices about her own body is how _wet_ she is, how every heartbeat feels like it’s throbbing between her thighs. 

Lena looks at Kara - the undoneness of her, the way she can’t decide if she wants to stare at Lena or those cuffs - and smiles. "Undress." 

Kara feels herself clench. It's just one little word, but it's exactly what she's been dying to do all night, and it suddenly makes her shaky. She manages her shoes alright, slipping out of them, and gets the zipper at the back of her dress half-down before it slips out of her fingers and she loses it, right at the spot on her back that's hardest to reach. She stomps her heel, suddenly frustrated. 

"Do you need some help, Kara?"

Kara nods, wordless. There’s a brief moment where she feels a little overwhelmed but then Lena is there, hands sure at Kara's back, easing her zipper all the way down to her hips. "There," she whispers, breath hot against Kara's skin. She kisses Kara's spine, right at the middle of her back, and Kara feels goosebumps all the way up to her hairline. "Keep going." 

"Yes, miss," Kara whispers back. She shrugs out of her dress, leaving it at her feet. Her bra goes next, and she looks over her shoulder at Lena for a gentle nod before shimmying out of her panties as well. 

Lena’s hand comes up to cup Kara’s jaw, and she kisses her. Lena’s mouth is tender, unhurried, but Kara is all nerves, all pent-up desire and eagerness. She channels as much as she can into her kiss, leaning in, trying her best to ask without _asking._ When they break apart, Lena is smilling. She runs her thumb across Kara’s cheekbone, calming, as if trying to settle her. 

But then her other hand reaches out and suddenly there’s touch between Kara’s legs and she whimpers in surprise. Lena runs a finger across Kara’s slit, dragging wetness from her entrance to her clit and forward. Kara’s hips tilt forward to follow her touch, wanting. 

Almost before Kara’s done processing the fact that she’s being touched, Lena’s hand is gone. She looks Kara in the eye, and says, “Go lie down.” 

Kara barely remembers to respond, mumbles her reply as she’s halfway onto the bed, already on her back. “Thank you, miss.” 

Lena chuckles. She takes her time arranging Kara’s arms, wrapping each cuff around the appropriate limb and buckling it snugly. It feels like it takes hours before Lena gets Kara arranged to her satisfaction, and steps back. Lena gives Kara a long look, admiring her handiwork. 

Kara gets that exposed feeling again, the one that leaves her quivery, as Lena looks over every inch of her. She _is_ exposed like this, naked and spread all the way out, but Lena’s gaze on her makes her _feel_ it. Lena’s eyes linger between Kara’s thighs, her chest, and Kara squirms. Being positioned like this means no friction, no way to ease that throbbing except Lena. 

When Kara’s restrained like this, Lena likes to make her wait. She stares at Kara like she’s memorizing her, considering every angle before she even steps toward the bed. When Lena does touch her, Kara’s been anticipating it so much that the sensation is almost overwhelming. Lena perches on the edge of the bed and drags her mouth across Kara’s neck, leaves feather-light kisses down her collarbone. Lena dips her head down and takes Kara’s nipple into her mouth, sucking and swirling her tongue until Kara actually _shouts_ , trying her best to arch into the feel of her mouth. Her cunt feels fluttery, throbbing between her legs, desperate for attention. 

Lena moves her left hand down Kara’s body, dragging her fingertips across Kara’s abdomen, the swell of her hipbones, the soft flesh of her inner thigh. She slips one finger - just one - inside Kara, simultaneously _everything_ and not nearly enough. Kara feels herself clench down around her, and Lena laughs. It’s the rumbly one, low in her chest, like Kara’s being cute. 

She whimpers. That one finger works in and out of her, so slowly, providing friction but not even close to filling her and it's _such_ a tease. Kara whimpers again, and Lena clucks her tongue. "Kara," she says. "You know you have to ask." 

Kara turns her head. She wants to tell Lena that she can’t, that she’s too embarrassed, but she knows Lena can _feel_ the way she clenches at the thought of having to ask for what she wants. It's so hard to say this kind of thing, so stressful, but that's part of it, too. Lena tells her what's expected, and Kara doesn't get her reward until she meets expectations. "Please, miss," she says. "Please, miss, touch me." 

Kara doesn't need to look down to know that Lena's voice is clearly curled around a smile. "Touch you where?"

"Touch - touch my clit," Kara says. She's blushing, she can feel it, and somehow that makes this even better. "Please, miss." 

Lena presses her thumb against Kara's clit, holds it there. It's pressure but not movement, and it feels incredible but quickly fades away. "Like this?" she asks. She sounds so calm, and Kara's so undone, and it just makes her want this even harder. Kara shakes her head, even though she knows it's pointless.

"I -" Kara starts, stops. She wants to squirm, but she can't tug her cuffs too hard and Lena's got her pinned, two fingers keeping her in a position where her only choice is to speak, to ask for it. "I need you to - rub my clit, please." 

Lena obliges. Her thumb starts to rub circles, little niggling friction that blooms in Kara's entire lower body. It feels _amazing_ , and she’s suddenly so close to the edge. This is another thing that needs words. "Miss, may I -" Kara starts, stops as Lena slips more fingers into her and her words turn into a moan. 

"May you what?" Lena asks. She sounds so sweet, so concerned, and _oh_ , that makes it even better. 

"Please may I come, miss?" Kara finally manages. Her voice is ragged, tight with the effort of keeping herself still and keeping herself from tumbling over the edge. 

Lena waits a second, then two, her hand still working between Kara's legs. She's so close and she wants to come so badly but she needs Lena for this, needs Lena to say - "Yes, you may, Kara." 

Kara comes almost on command, her orgasm happening in a rush that leaves her hips shuddering, Lena's hand slippery. She focuses on keeping her limbs still, on the shudders inside her and how good she feels, how good Lena makes her feel. There are little spots behind her eyes and her muscles are aching from the effort of keeping still and it drags on for seconds, minutes, before she feels like she’s done. 

“So good,” Lena whispers, softly. “So beautiful.” 

Lena crawls off the bed, leaving Kara so that she can uncuff her. She presses gentle, tender kisses to Kara’s ankles, her wrists, her breasts, her cheeks. Gets ready to take care of Kara, because sometimes that’s part of it, too. She positions herself at the top of the bed, sitting against the headboard, and Kara finds the energy to move her head into Lena’s lap. 

Lena strokes her hair until she feels like she’s Kara again, until she’s back to herself and Lena’s not _miss_ anymore, just Lena. 

"How you doing?" Lena asks her. She's not miss, not ma'am, just herself. Kara's Lena, checking in, and Kara doesn't think she's felt this cared for, ever. 

Kara laughs. "Like really, really good," she says. Her shoulders are a little tight from holding her arms steady, but that's nothing a hot shower won't fix. 

Lena threads her fingers into Kara’s hair, gently tugging out a section to twist into a braid. Kara hums, cuddles herself against Lena’s belly. "We've still got the rest of the evening ahead of us, you know."

Kara laughs. Lena says it like she's got grand plans, like she's going to try to drag Kara out to dinner or a charity auction or a night on the town. "Pretty sure my whole body's made of Jello right now," Kara says. "So whatever you've got planned, it better not be far away. Or something that involves high heels," she adds, just in case. 

Lena chuckles, and Kara feels it against her skin, rumbly and a little ticklish. "I was thinking more along the lines of pizza," she says. "You like pizza, right?"

Kara looks up and grins. “Only slightly more than I like you.” 

Lena’s smile falters into something more tender, almost shy. “High praise indeed.” 

Kara shrugs. “You’ve earned it.”


End file.
